Pandora's Box
by Missing Snowman
Summary: “House, why is there a small child asleep at the table?” asked Kutner with a furrowed brow.' Cuddy might regret not letting House have the day off. So who is the child?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own House. M.D**

**Okay, a kid fic, but I love 'em and as far as I can see this one's a little different :) Just for fun anyway!**

**Pandora is based on Karen out of Outnumbered, an amazing show - there's plenty of clips on YouTube if you're interested (or episodes on BBC iPlayer if you're in the UK) . **

**Disclaimer II****: I don't own Outnumbered.**

**Enjoy! _:)_**

* * *

**Pandora's Box**

"House, why is there a small child asleep at the table?" asked Kutner with a furrowed brow.

House looked from behind the patient's file to the girl curled up on the chair, then towards the confused doctors sitting round the diagnostics table.

"I could ask you the same question," he answered disappearing back behind the folder, "The patient's liver is failing; heart, brain and now liver. What connects them?"

Taub, sitting next to the girl, fidgeted awkwardly.

"She smells abit, do you think she's homeless?" he questioned looking at the girl who wore a baggy sweater, knee length shorts and sneakers. Her mid-length curly blonde hair fell a little over her face as she breathed rhythmically. She looked about six.

"Good idea," mocked House, eyeing the other doctor round the folder, "But the patient's a _he_ and _he_ isn't homeless, as far as his wife and three children are aware at least."

"Is she the patient's child?" asked Taub.

"Have you even read the file? The patient's black," replied House, apparently reading intently.

"She could be adopted," said Kutner flatly.

House peeped over the folder at Kutner and rolled his eyes before disappearing again.

"We should call Cuddy," suggested Thirteen.

House sighed and placed the file down severely on the table. The girl stirred, mumbled something and began snoring.

"She'd accuse me of kidnapping it -" he said.

"_Her_," reinforced Thirteen.

"Somebody's broody, watch out Foreman or there'll be a little Seventeen on the way."

Foreman raised an eyebrow.

"Why don't we just wake her up?" he suggested calmly.

The room silently agreed with this logic, but looked awkwardly at one another, unsure how to proceed. House noticed their reluctance with concealed glee, none of them had much experience with children, and he knew this one wouldn't wake up.

"Go on then, I hear it's good luck to wake up children," smirked House.

Foreman momentarily froze, but to prove his point he got up and walked over to the girl. He crouched down next to her, shook her arm gently and said "wake up".

The girl turned her head, looked at him with bleary eyes and mumbled "go away" before returning to sleep with her head tucked more securely between the chair and her shoulder.

Foreman tried again, talking a little louder this time, but the girl's skinny arm swung out to shoo him, and whacked him in the eye. Foreman reeled, and the girl snuggled deeper into the chair.

House smirked.

Foreman stood up clutching his injured eye and glared at House who appeared to be massively enjoying the moment.

"Early cirrhosis of the liver could have previously damaged the heart and brain: Hepatatic encephalopathy," Forman concluded in order to avoid bruising his pride as well as his eye by attempting to wake the child.

House nodded curtly.

"Kutner, Taub, go snoop around his house for signs of alcohol or anything relevant, see if we can ascertain the cause of the liver damage before it wrecks his body even more. Thirteen, test for infection. Foreman, go check out the patient, find out what daddy's been up to."

"What about the girl?" asked Taub, trying to stand without nudging her chair.

"I'll sort it," said House.

The doctors reluctantly accepted this and sped out the room to their respective duties. House waited until their white coats had disappeared down the hall.

"You can stop pretending now, Pan."

The girl started laughing, still curled into a tiny ball on the chair. She unfolded her legs and sat up to look at House, a red mark on her cheek where her head had rested.

House raised his hand with a smirk, she sat forward on the edge of the chair, feet dangling, and gave him a high-five.

"The snoring was a nice touch."

"I don't snore," she said seriously, she had an English accent.

"Even when you pretend-sleep?"

"No. But you snored really loudly all night."

House stuck out his tongue.

She grinned, her blue eyes sparkling.

"You smell," House stated.

"I told you I needed a bath…I told you yesterday!"

House pondered this.

"I have a plan," he said suspiciously.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Pan was sitting in House's office wearing a bald-cap, her hair tucked inexpertly away.

"Pretty," House smirked.

Pan giggled and scratched at the plastic covering.

"Why do you have one of these?"

"I have my reasons. So you remember where paediatrics is?"

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Duh," she sighed.

"Good. One of the nurses should give you a bath. Just remember to play sick."

The girl nodded and skipped out of the office.

"I said sick!" House called after her, and smiled when he heard a little cough echo back.

He spun in his chair, suddenly bored.

Hmm…

He picked up his phone to prank Wilson. He'd annoy Cuddy later too, for not letting him have the day off. She might regret that…

* * *

_**To be contined :)**_

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

A short time later the team were back in the differential room.

"Find anything?" House asked as Kutner and Taub placed several sealed bags on the desk.

"What happened to the little girl?" asked Thirteen.

"Cuddy adopted her," said House solemnly.

Suddenly the team turned at the sound of a scream outside the room. Pan ran past the window, soaking wet and wearing a hospital gown. Her bare feet padded wet footprints along the shiny hallway floor as she giggled. Her hair hung wetly over her shoulders. She turned, gave a startled look as two nurses came in swift pursuit, screamed gleefully and continued running.

The room stood in startled silence for a moment. House suppressed a cackle.

"So she's a patient?" asked Foreman.

"She didn't look sick," noted Kutner.

"Sooo," said House limping to the whiteboard, "I see you've found some un-prescribed benzodiazepine? Which flavour? Diazepam?"

"Err, yeah," replied Kutner picking up the anti-anxiety drugs, "he got them off the internet."

"But we've checked," Taub explained, "there's nothing out of the ordinary about the drugs and his dosage has been controlled."

"He tested positive for swine flu, we've isolated him and given him Tamiflu, but it's irrelevant to his primary symptoms."

"Then it's an effect, not a cause. His anxiety is a symptom, and his lowered immune response explains the flu when his family are healthy."

With this, House drew a face on the whiteboard, with raised eyebrows and a circular mouth, it looked caught between surprise and anxiety.

"Start him on flumazenil," said House, cocking his head and looking at the board sideways, "it's only beneficial in the short-term, but the diazepam isn't helping his liver," he turned back to the room, "and we need to look like we're doing something other than just prying into his personal life."

They threw a few more diagnoses round, each more unlikely than the next before finally leaving to administer the drugs.

* * *

Pan sat in a comfy chair in Cuddy's office, swinging her legs and holding her breath as Cuddy cleaned a graze on her elbow.

"There you go," Cuddy said warmly as she put a plaster over the top. "You're soaking wet, do you want a towel?"

Pan nodded as she tried to look at her elbow. Cuddy came back with a warm towel from the bathroom. The girl snuggled up to it, but didn't attempt to dry herself.

"What's your name?" asked Cuddy, taking a seat opposite.

"Pandora."

"That's a pretty name. Who's supposed to be looking after you, Pandora? Pretending to be a patient is a bad thing to do."

"Yes, but I fell over," she said slowly, looking with wide eyes up at Cuddy, "I could sue."

"I don't think you can sue when you fell over a sign warning you that the floor was slippery, especially because you were running away from two of our nurses."

Pan looked at Cuddy as though this was entirely illogical.

"So, who's supposed to be looking after you, Pandora?"

"My grandpa."

"Do you know where he is? I should have a word with him. Is he a patient?"

Pan shook her head. "He's a doctor."

"Oh. Okay, what's his name? We can ring him to come and get you." Cuddy picked up the phone.

Pan hesitated trying to think back to the names she'd seen outside paediatrics. Oncology, she'd sounded out that word, and underneath it... Dr…

"James Wilson," she declared, or was it Watson? No, Wilson, she could tell by the lady's face; raised eyebrows and open mouth, caught somewhere between surprise and anxiety.

"Doctor James Wilson is your grandfather?"

Pan nodded whole-heartedly.

Cuddy let out a surprised gasp.

"I never knew he…that he actually…and he just let you run amok around the hospital?"

"I was only playing," defended Pan, sitting back in the chair and swinging her legs more. "And you shouldn't joke about…about culturally-bound psycho…logical syndromes."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow at the small girl.

"Amok," Pan clarified sitting up again, "it's a culture-bound syndrome pacific to…to Malaysian culture. My dad's a psychologist," she added.

"Where is your father?"

"I'm just staying with grandpa House… _at_ grandpa's house for a few days while my dad…while he's accidentally in prison, because we have to wait a day for bail and then go home," she flicked her hair out of her face, hoping she hadn't noticed her slip up.

"And you live in England?" Cuddy asked, picking up the accent.

Pan nodded and looked around the room.

"And your grandpa is James Wilson?" checked Cuddy, still not believing it.

"Yes," she lied flatly, turning back to Cuddy and blinking her big eyes.

"How old is your father?"

Trick question. She suspected.

Time to play it cute.

"He has a beard," she said wiping the towel over her face.

Cuddy smiled sweetly.

"Well anyway, it's nice to meet you, Pandora. I'll be having words with your grandpa," Cuddy said as she dialled Wilson's office.

Pan took the opportunity to eye the door out the corner of her eye. She could hear the phone ringing. Then a frustrated voice answered.

"House for the last time I -"

"James?

"Oh, Lisa, I -"

"Have a granddaughter running around the hospital?"

"What?! I don't have…"

Pan legged it in a second. She pulled open the door and ran into the busy clinic. She saw the lift doors about to close and was tempted for a dramatic dive between them, but the stairs would be more reliable. She ran towards the bright sign illuminated above some double doors, ran through and climbed them as fast as she could, her bare feet padding lightly as she scrambled up the several flights. She slowed as she reached the hallway that led to House's office, attempting to look natural again but still breathing heavily.

The team had just left the office and were walking down the hallway in her direction, House had just closed the door to his office behind him. She controlled herself, even though her heart was beating fast and she wanted so much to run, she waited and walked surreptitiously up the hallway. The four doctors from House's team walked past, they glanced at her but didn't say anything. Then they were in the lift, the doors still open, but Pan didn't notice them still watching and she finally ran towards House. She shouted "grandpa" down the otherwise empty hall, and jumped into House's arms and held him tight round his neck.

House hadn't seen her coming, he staggered a little but held the weight on his good leg. His cane arm was strong and held her small form easily.

The doors to the elevator closed on four startled doctors. Kutner attempted to press the button to reopen the door but it was already moving. They looked at each other with mutual shock.

"Did she just call House 'grandpa'?" frowned Foreman.

Thirteen, Taub and Kutner nodded simultaneously, utterly dumbstruck.

* * *

**To be continued...**

_Thank you for reading, and thanks for the reviews! :)_

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Now that she felt safe, she jumped down and looked up at House.

"You got me into trouble!" she shouted with her hands on her hips, just as she'd seen Cuddy do when she'd been caught running from the nurses.

House laughed as the little girl attempted an air of authority.

"This means war," she declared and stomped into House's office to get a spare pair of clothes from her duffel bag stuffed under his desk.

House shrugged off the declaration, and followed her back into his office.

"Just stay here until I come back to get you, I'm only going to the floor below to deal with a patient. You can play on my game-boy, okay?"

Pan looked up at him, still angry, but the emotion had difficulty holding for long on her angelic face.

"As soon as I finish this case we can go and bail your dad out."

She nodded as she unzipped her bag.

House hesitated a moment.

"It was pretty funny though?" he smirked.

Pan smiled, she tried to hide it as she searched through her bag but House saw. They caught eyes, House nodded and left.

"And it is going to get a whole lot funnier," Pan grinned to herself, pulling a tube a super-glue and pink paint out of her bag.

* * *

Pan sneaked down the hallway; unfortunately she was a little more conspicuous now that she wore a pink fairy-princess dress, compete with small wings, sneakers and odd socks - but she had a plan.

She spotted House standing over his patient, wearing a face mask and sterile scrubs. His cane, Pan noted with a sly grin, was left outside the room - this would be much easier than she had thought. She tiptoed towards it, pleased that he hadn't left it in the chamber between the hallway and sterile room. She took the tube of pink paint from her pocket - she knew her crafts set would come in useful despite her dad's reasoning. Then she smeared it all over House's cane using her hands. She covered as much of it as she could, getting bits of paint in her hair, which bounced into curls as it continued to dry, and accidentally wiped a massive smudge across her forehead as she moved her hair out of the way. Then she smeared the handle with superglue, and fled back up the hallway to watch from a distance.

Soon House came out of the room, leaving a woman sobbing on the man's bed, and the man looking rather angry. He disposed of his scrubs and limped out to retrieve his cane. He paused and cursed, looking down and then back up the corridor. Pan jumped out and pulled a face, House scowled as she giggled loudly. He grabbed the cane to pursue her, limping fast, ignoring the strange looks the pink cane brought.

Pan giggled, standing still as House approached her. He stopped and looked down at her, like they were meeting in the battlefield. She raised her bright pink hands in surrender.

"It wasn't me," she laughed.

House's glare turned to a smirk and lifted the cane of the floor in disdain, but then his face fell again. His hand was stuck to it.

"You glued it?! Oh, just wait until I tell your dad on you!"

"No because I didn't tell Doctor Cuddy on you! You got me in trouble, so I painted your…your walking stick pink."

"I know - I don't want it to be pink."

"Yes - but it's prettier now," she nodded knowingly.

"Why are you wearing a fluffy pink dress with fairy wings?" House asked, taking her mucky pink hand in his and walking quickly back towards his office.

"Because I'm playing princess," she shouted skipping alongside him, "What's wrong with your patient?"

"His liver's failing."

"Does that make him breath like this?" she asked, breathing short and shallow, as though she was hyperventilating. They stopped walking and House looked at her with curious eyes.

"No."

"Then why _is_ he?" Pan asked, and they both turned to look down the hall, where the patient was just visible through the glass walls.

"He's having a panic attack," muttered House, turning and limping back towards the room.

They stood outside, House went to bang on the glass wall with his cane, but remembered it was still stuck to his hand. He pulled it off with a wince, glad it hadn't set too well against his warm skin. But in the process he did manage to smudge pink paint up his leg from the cane, and a splodge on his cheek after pulling his hand off the sticky wood.

"It's spontaneous bacterial peritonitis," House shouted at a nurse. She frowned at him, and hurried into the room, tying a mask to her face. House rolled his eyes and paged his team the diagnosis. Sometimes it paid to wear a lab coat, he thought to himself, and to not be covered in pink paint.

"He needs a paper bag - stat!" Pan told the nurse.

House smiled, but perhaps only at solving the case.

"That's why his symptoms didn't fit; they weren't symptoms. They were symptoms of symptoms of a psychological consequence of a hidden infection. Turns out he's not a depressed alcoholic. Damn," he sighed.

Pan just looked at him with wide eyes as he explained this to her.

"What would happen if everybody got amnesia at the same time?" she asked.

House looked at her with a frown, distracted from his puzzle, then his face softened as he pondered the question.

"Maybe people would be happier?" he said, turning and limping with his pink cane down the hall, hand in hand with his granddaughter.

"Everybody would forget they left the oven on…and blow up and…and lose their mice from the hospital."

"Mice?"

"Yes, I found some mice in a room. I think they were doctors once but they forgot and turned into mice. So if everybody forgot…"

The two walked down the hall, continuing their strange conversation until they reached the lift.

It opened to show Cuddy, Wilson and the four doctors on House's team standing in the lift. They stared at the pink stained pair before them with shock.

"That's her!" shouted half the people in the lift; eyes wide with confusion, surprise and anxiety.

"I think everybody would pull that face," House decided.

* * *

Foreman, Thirteen, Kutner and Taub all jumped to their beepers at the same time. They were sat around a table in the cafeteria, convicing themselves that House couldn't possibly have a granddaughter. They shared a look and headed straight for the lift.

It opened on a frustrated Cuddy having a heated conversation with Wilson, they stepped back a little as the four doctors entered.

"Well she said you were her grandfather!" Cuddy said as the doors closed.

"But I told you, I don't have -"

"I know, I know, it's just strange that she would -"

"Does House have a granddaughter?" burst in Kutner.

"What?" asked Cuddy, turning to face the other doctors, "no, he's…no he couldn't, why?"

"A little girl ran up to him and called him grandpa," explained Foreman, "But it was probably just a patient…"

Cuddy's eyes widened.

"A little girl's been running around the hospital all morning. But it's impossible, she couldn't be…"

The doors opened onto House, smudged with pink paint, clutching a badly painted pink cane and holding hands with a little girl wearing what appeared to be a fairy outfit.

"That's her!" declared Cuddy and House's team at the same time. Then they looked at each other in shock, then everybody looked back to House.

"I think everybody would pull that face," House said to the little girl.

"HOUSE?" Cuddy shouted.

He and Pan both raised their hands in surrender, pink with paint.

"It wasn't me," he said.

Pan sidled behind his leg, leaving pink fingerprints on the edge of his jacket.

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

_Thank you all for the delightful reviews! :) _


	4. Chapter 4

"You guys," House said, pointing at his team with his pink cane. They were gaping at him, "go and deal with the patient."

They filed reluctantly out of the lift and headed towards the patient's room, looking back at the odd scene.

Cuddy and Wilson stepped out of the lift.

"House!" she said aghast, her arms folded. "This...is she...?" Then her tone softened, "You have a granddaughter? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Yes," said Pan sternly, stepping out from behind House's leg and folding her arms like Cuddy, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Cuddy raised an eyebrow in amusement then raised her chin to House as though the small child's words were final.

"What's this? Good-cop bad-cop?" House mocked.

Pan narrowed her eyes.

"He's been secretly growing grandchildren for years!" she declared.

House and Cuddy both looked at her, Wilson stood with an open mouth just behind Cuddy.

"Tattletale," mumbled House.

"House?" Wilson stuttered, as though checking it was still him, "You're a father?"

"Yes," House said, "actually, I'm a father of a father, that is how these things work, right?

"I know how it works!" Pan jumped in excitedly, forgetting to mimic Cuddy, "when a man loves a woman and they have urges…"

"Pan!" House warned.

Cuddy and Wilson both looked in horror at House. Pan blinked, wondering what she'd said wrong.

"What?" he defended, "I didn't tell her!"

"You don't tell anybody anything apparently," said Wilson, folding him arms.

"I was just a kid, it was an accident and I left it in Europe; that's all."

"We're your friends, House!" Wilson declared, trying to keep cool.

"So where's her father? You're _son?_" Cuddy asked, shocked at her own words.

"Well…there was another accident, that involved a fight…in Chuck E. Cheese."

"I don't believe…" Cuddy began shaking her head.

"That you actually -" stuttered Wilson, running a hand through his hair.

Pan stepped forward, "You're blowing things way out of proportion!" she stated sensibly.

Cuddy and Wilson froze. House winked at Pan as she turned to look at him.

"Exactly! Now if you excuse us, I have to go and bail my son out of jail…again," he mumbled the last word.

House took Pan's hand as the lift opened and walked in. Wilson and Cuddy both hesitated a moment and gave each other a look before quickly joining him.

"I'm sorry, House, it's just a lot to take in," Wilson said taking a deep breath. As the doors shut on the four of them he reached out to shake Pan's hand.

"I'm James Wilson, it's nice to meet you." he smiled, "Or even know you exist," he added with a look at House.

Pan gave him a high-five rather than a hand shake, and laughed as she caught Cuddy's eye. They smiled at each other. Wilson looked awkwardly at the pink paint now over his hand.

The doors opened onto the floor of House's office and Pan ran off to get her bag, House and Wilson both got out, Cuddy held open the door a moment.

"I want you to tell me about this, House," she said warmly.

House was about to bite back, it wasn't her business, but the concerned and friendly look in her eye made him just nod.

She stepped back from the doors and gave Wilson a nod.

"You need to get to the police station? I'll give you a lift, cancel my appointments, if you like?" Wilson asked as the elevator doors closed.

Pan came running towards them, lugging her bag over her shoulder.

She gave it to House, who balanced the weight awkwardly on his good leg.

He smiled slyly.

"Nah, we got here fine; but you can carry her stuff." He thrust the bag into Wilson's arms.

Wilson smiled wryly. Well, he wanted to be included, and this was House's way of enabling him.

"_You_ just got me out of clinic duty," House said with a proud smile to Pan as the three of them waited for the elevator.

* * *

"What?" whined House, "she has a helmet."

House placed the adult sized helmet on Pan's head, it rested on her shoulders and she looked up at Wilson. House lifted his leg carefully over the bike, then he picked up Pan and placed her in front of him. The bag was strapped to the back of the bike.

"You've got to hold on tight, okay?" House said; there was a kind tone to his voice Wilson didn't hear often.

The helmet nodded and bashed House on the chin. Pan kicked with her leg as though she was riding a horse, knocking House's thigh and making him wince.

"Let's go then," came a mumble from under the helmet, "We've got to go rescue my daddy from America."

"Wait!" shouted Wilson, watching the scene with horror, "House, I'll give you both a lift. I can cancel my appointments easily."

Pan turned and lifted up the visor on the helmet.

"But I want to ride the motor-bike horse!"

"No, it's too dangerous," warned Wilson, "we can put the music up _really_ loud if we go in my _shiny_ car?"

House rolled his eyes as Pan cheered and tried to slide off the bike, the helmet fell off her head as she looked down. Only half off the bike she looked up with a guilty smile.

House sighed, and lifted her off. Wilson grabbed Pan's bag with a smug look. House picked up the helmet with the end of his cane, gripped it in a pink stained hand and followed the pair to Wilson's car.

"She'll get paint all over your seats," he warned.

Wilson's smug smile faded slightly.

* * *

**To be continued...

* * *

**_Again, thank you all so much for the reviews! :) Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

After a car ride of Pan singing a jumbled up alphabet to the tune of a number of Beatles' songs - and once backwards in perfect order to Wilson's surprise, they pulled up outside the police station.

"So if you pay bail and the fine, he should be free to fly home tonight?" Wilson checked.

House nodded as he looked out of the window at the police station. It was the one he had stopped in overnight during the whole Tritter incident. He'd carved his name on the wall of the cell with a loose brick. 'House was here.'

Wilson waited in the car with Pan while House limped into the police station.

* * *

_- Fifteen minutes later -_

"…but if aliens were so clever enough to fly all the way to England…or America then they could just go back in time and have been here forever, then they won't have to bother," Pan explained.

Wilson nodded, thinking it through. "Maybe they can't travel in time?"

"But Father Christmas can. Is he an alien?"

"Santa? He just slows time down-"

"Well if you slow it down enough then it will go backwards like…like it was on a hill."

She looked at him as though this was common knowledge, then continued her train of thought.

"I think nits are aliens…or that there's giant space nits that are contagious and jump from planet to planet instead of…instead of between heads."

Pan demonstrated the idea with her hands then absently scratched her head.

"That…that's an interesting idea," stuttered Wilson, trying to ignore his suddenly itchy scalp.

"Oh look, here comes your dad and grandpa," he sighed with relief, silently eyeing the pink finger prints Pan left as she stuck her hands on the glass. Surely the paint would have dried by now; he didn't even want to look at the seats.

"They took for ages," sighed Pan.

Wilson looked with interest at the man walking next to House. He looked to be in his early thirty, and wore a crinkled shirt with an undone tie around his neck. He was sporting a black eye. He was a lot like House; tall, good looking, and walked with the same confidence that House did - without the limp of course. His hair was a thick brown, and his eyes clear blue.

The two men got in the car, House in the front and his son in the back. Pan excitedly jumped up to hug her father, ignoring her fastened seatbelt. House and Wilson both smiled at the reunion.

"I'm Jacob," he said, shaking Wilson's hand.

"James Wilson. It's nice to _finally_ meet you,"

"Stop your whining, Wilson," interjected House, "let's go!"

"Allons-y!" chirped Pan.

Wilson sighed and pulled off.

"Did grandpa slay the dragon with his cane to rescue you?" asked Pan, looking at her father with wide eyes.

"Yes," he grinned, "but they were in disguise! They all transformed to look exactly like me."

Pan gasped, engrossed in the story.

"So what did you do grandpa?"

"Well, dragons hate pink," House explained without even pausing to think, "so I poked each one with my cane to make them all explode -all except your dad; then I knew it was him."

"Wow!" she uttered, "I wish I could've come in and made them explode."

"But we couldn't have done it without you, Pan, you gave grandpa the one weapon he needed."

"I did!" she shouted excitedly, "You can't be angry at me now!"

Wilson shared a small smile with House.

"But it wasn't like a normal fairy tale though, was it?" she continued, "We never got to ride the…ride the motor bike horse to rescue you. And because you should be dressed like a princess too," she directed at her father.

House turned and smirked at his son.

"Yeah, Jake," he grinned, "you're _supposed_ to be the damsel in distress."

"Maybe next time," he smiled, and gave a meaningful look at House.

House nodded and turned round. Next time, he thought, and smiled to himself.

Wilson saw it, but pretended not to.

"I carved my name under yours," Jacob said with a grin, absently trying to rub some pink paint off Pan's forehead only to spread the smudge further.

House's smile grew wider.

* * *

Wilson dropped the three of them at House's place, they would collect their luggage and get a taxi to the airport later that evening.

Some time later Pan was washed, and feasting on a bowl of spaghetti. Jacob was busy cleaning the bathroom which was soaked after Pan's heroic attempts to escape the tub.

There was a knock at the door, Pan looked up with a spaghetti filled mouth and shouted "I'll get it!"

"No, _I'll _get it," House said, limping to the door.

He opened it to find Cameron smiling at him. Chase stood a little awkwardly behind her.

"Hi," she said cheerfully, trying to look past the door, but House stood in the narrow gap.

"Hi," said House flatly, "you're early this week," then he looked at Chase with a sly smile, "sorry, Chase, girls only."

Chase folded his arms and rolled his eyes, Cameron didn't react.

"You have a granddaughter," she said.

"Allegedly," replied House.

"Evidently," corrected a small voice from behind House, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Apparently," reasoned House as small fingers tried to open the door further.

"Definitely," said Pan, sticking her head round the gap in the door, spaghetti sauce round her mouth and on her nose.

"Hello," smiled Cameron crouching down to her level, House sighed and opened the door further.

"My name's Allison," Cameron said holding out her hand.

"I'm Pandora," she replied, holding out the wrong hand.

Cameron smiled wider and shook her left hand.

"And that's Chase," said House with a small smile, "He's British too."

"I'm not…" snapped Chase before remembering how to deal with House, "I'm Australian," he explained with a small smile at Pan.

Pan giggled shyly and hid behind House's leg, her hand gently resting on his bad thigh. House looked down at her, she peered at Chase, blushed and ran back into the apartment.

"I think she likes you," said Cameron standing up and smiling at Chase. It was a smile that said "I want one". Chase tried to smile back.

House glared, and suddenly feared Pan being a teenager.

"You have a son," Cameron declared turning back to House.

He scratched his forehead with the back of his thumb.

"Yes, I also have three cousins, two aunts and an alcoholic uncle, shall I parade them out one by one?"

"Are they here?"

"_No!_"

"Then perhaps another time," returned Cameron with an amused shrug.

House sighed.

"He's doing his chores right now, he can come out and play later."

"Pan?!" shouted a man's voice from behind House, "No - Pan - get off the piano! Don't stand on it!"

Cameron and Chase raised their eyebrows and House cringed as a dozen piano keys were pressed at once.

"How do you _still _have paint on you?" the man asked.

House winced.

"Perhaps we should go," Chase suggested, taking Cameron's hand.

She nodded reluctantly and smiled goodbye to House.

House shut the door and leaned his head against it. He breathed a laugh and limped towards his piano to check the damage.

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**To be continued...**

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_Thank you all for reading and reviewing :)_


	6. Chapter 6

Soon, Jacob and Pan were ready to leave. The sun was just setting outside and a taxi was due any moment to take them to the airport.

Pan was stalking House's cane as he limped through the apartment as though she was a predator; tiptoeing lightly behind it.

House stopped walking and looked down at her.

"Why do you have a walking stick?" she asked, staring back up.

"It's a cane," he paused, "I got shot."

"Really!"

"Yes."

"Wow," she marvelled, "Being a doctor is dangerous, huh? Like dad's bruised eye," she said, pulling down her lower eye-lid and making a face.

Jacob joined them by the door carrying Pan's luggage over his shoulder and dragging a suitcase behind him.

"Thanks for this…err…dad."

"No problem," said House, not looking him in the eye.

Jacob shifted Pan's bag on his shoulder and awkwardly held out his hand.

House leaned his cane against the wall and shook his son's hand. They gave each other a conservative smile.

"No," squeaked Pan, "You've got to hug, like this," and she jumped at House with her arms in the air. He took her lightly in his arms, resting her on his hip and leaning her weight on his good leg.

Jacob smiled, which made his swollen eye look painful.

House and Pan looked at each other, their faces only a few inches apart, their blue eyes matching perfectly.

"Bye Grandpa," she said as she gave him a hug, then she jumped down and opened the front door.

House and Jacob shared a quick man-hug, complete with back patting, and then followed Pan outside.

"I have a conference in a few months, in New York. We could…well I could bring my wife, and Pan and her brother with me; we'll come down and visit for a few days. It's just before Christmas, so…I mean if you want?"

"Sure," House said quickly.

"James is growing up fast, he'll want to come, and you haven't met him yet," he stroked his daughter's hair out of her face, avoiding eye contact with House in a way that was very like his father, "but they could all…next time…come along?"

House nodded slowly and smiled a little.

"He's worse than her," Jacob said quietly.

He looked up and caught House's eye - an identical smile curled his lips.

"Right, well we'll be off. See you soon."

"Yeah. See ya," House said. Pan waved goodbye, and House found himself uncharacteristically returning the wave.

"And send my love to your mom!" House shouted to his son before they turned the corner.

Jacob laughed genuinely.

"Oh she won't like that," he called back and turned the corner out of sight.

House heard Pan questioning why grandma didn't like grandpa.

House chuckled to himself. He walked back into his apartment, and shut the door behind him.

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With his apartment finally empty, House phoned Wilson as he'd promised.

"House?"

"Who else would be calling you?"

There was a pause.

"Good point," Wilson sighed.

"Not even my parents know," House said, wincing in mild amusement as he waited for Wilson's reaction

"They…you didn't even tell your parents?!" Wilson shouted, completely shocked, "I thought you couldn't lie to your mother?"

"Well it didn't exactly come up in conversation," mocked House, " 'So Greg, that girl you banged when we were living in England, yeah - the one we never met, she's put on weight, know anything about that?'"

Wilson let out a long sigh. He'd sighed far too much today - it was all those deep, supposedly calming breaths.

"I see them once every few years, that's all. Send them money, and cards occasionally. Last time I saw Pan she was two."

He flashed back to his first meeting of Pan, in his apartment. She stood in a nappy and tiny dress, looking up at him with wide blue eyes, sucking her thumb.

"Jake only comes to me when he needs something; money, bail…and once, when he was sixteen, he called to ask how to get rid of crabs…So don't be all hurt that I didn't tell you, there didn't seem any point."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," the deep breathing seemed to have worked it's charms on Wilson, "it's your life, House, and…I kinda like that you can keep on surprising me. Just…there's no more _big_ secrets, is there? "

"I'm secretly a woman."

"I see," Wilson laughed, "_grandma."_

"Har-har," smiled House.

"Pan's cute," Wilson said, "imaginative, and really smart. I imagine a lot like you as a child?"

"She doesn't have to fear speaking her mind though," said House, but quickly moved on, "She opened a Pandora's Box of trouble. It was her fault her dad got arrested you know?"

"I was going to ask about that."

"She threw her food at this big guy and hid under the table. Turned out the guy was really friendly with the police. Jake got blamed for the fight that ensued," he chuckled, flicking through the TV channels.

"But," he continued, "the Greek myth goes that when Pandora opens the box a maelstrom of trouble gets released...along with hope."

House looked at the pink fingerprints along the dark walls of his apartment, and his pink cane that leaned against the wall. He turned back to the TV.

"Die Hard Trilogy is showing; you want to get a pizza?" House asked.

"Sure," said Wilson a little surprised, "I'll bring some beers."

They hadn't had an evening like that since Amber had died.

"See you in ten," House said and hung up the phone.

He scratched some pink paint off his nail and smiled. A plane landed on the screen. Bruce Willis gripped the seat.

"You don't like flying do you?"

"What gives you that idea?" John McClane replied sarcastically.

House hadn't mentioned he had a grandson called James; that one was too good to tell just yet.

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_**The End**_

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_Thanks for reading, and a big thanks to those who reviewed! Unfortunately real life is kidnapping me and forcing me to study - I'm off to university in Hugh Laurie's home town! :D where it's all very Hogwarts. =) excitement!!_

_I've left room for more, perhaps when I'm home for the holidays a christmas sequel will be inspired. I doubt I'll be able to keep away from fanfiction :) and I do have a few half finished stories._

_Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this! :)_

_Roll on the new season!_

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